


voyeur

by ficfucker



Series: sk dogtruth [2]
Category: Last Podcast on The Left (Podcast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood Kink, Dismemberment, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25008547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: marcus takes the reigns this time.
Relationships: Ben Kissel/Marcus Parks
Series: sk dogtruth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810639
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	voyeur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zwtfmate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwtfmate/gifts), [BeachBlanketBingo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeachBlanketBingo/gifts), [MrsMegadrive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMegadrive/gifts).



> heed tags, you guys know the drill

“The badly decayed body of an unknown man was found earlier this week. Having been exposed to the elements and partially eaten by woodland animals, investigators say it will take extensive forensic efforts to identify the victim.”

Marcus leans forward and twirls the fat black knob. He says, “Ben, darlin’, listen…”

The female voice continues, “Several bones are missing, presumed to have been dragged or even consumed by scavengers, leaving behind an incomplete skeleton. Major Samuel Birch of local law enforcement is refusing to disclose the exact location of where the body was discovered, but encourages anyone with possible information to come forward.”

Ben’s mouth tweaks into a smile. His eyes dart over to Marcus, flaming with delight. “Sound familiar?” he asks, voice gruff. He removes one hand from the steering wheel, clutches Marcus’ left thigh like he’s trying to seize a writhing fish.

“So fuckin’ hot, hearin’ them report on us,” Marcus purrs.

“Foul play has not yet been ruled out,” the radio buzzes. “In such an advanced stage of decomposition, it will be difficult to determine the cause of death, but forensic scientists are working hard to find any traces of man-made trauma.”

Marcus giggles, rolls his eyes up into his skull. “Ain’t that somethin’?”

Ben gives him a squeeze. “Dreams do come true,” he chuckles.

Marcus clicks the small silver button of the glove compartment and it swings open. “Should celebrate,” he hums. He goes to reach for their rolling papers, but Ben stops him.

“You know I get too jumpy if we blaze before goin’ out.”

“Oh, so we’re goin’ out?”

Ben rolls one shoulder in a loose shrug. No big deal. “Don’t tell me you’re not itching for a fix.”

* * *

Marcus twirls around so he’s wedged between the two front seats. He grins at the gagged man. “Wanna know somethin’?” he asks. He does not expect an answer and does not wait for one. “When a man doesn’t wear a mask to commit crimes, it means he’s planning to kill you.”

“Oh, Marcus,” Ben scolds. “Don’t toy with him like that.”

Marcus frowns. “What? It’s true!”

He returns his focus to the silently sobbing man. He lines the .44 up and squints one eye shut. With the bounce and shudder of the car, it’s difficult to keep his aim steady and the dark of night isn’t helping.

It’s sexual, undeniably. The length of the Magnum, the satisfying heft in his palm. He’s got an erection again and half a mind to turn around and rub one out in the front seat. He might not need to. If he gets any more in his own head, he’ll shoot off without having to touch.

“Almost there,” Ben hums.

“I’m gettin’ this one, right?” Marcus asks. He plops back down, careful where the gun is aimed.

Ben proud-father smiles over at his boyfriend. “All yours.”

* * *

Marcus is both disappointed and high on adrenaline. “Motherfucker pissed himself,” he sneers, annoyed. His ears are ringing.

“They do that sometimes,” Ben says.

Marcus pokes at the corpse with the tip of his shoe. The flesh gives loosely, jiggles. “I shoulda let you take him.”

“Show’s not over just yet.” Ben reaches into his belt and unsheaths his Buck. The blade catches the thin moonlight like a holy beacon. “Me or you?”

“I got it.” Marcus takes the knife, drops to a squat, and pauses to consider. Behind him, the plastic crinkling of Ben opening up a trash bag. He starts with the stomach. Slices long and wide and the guts pour out slick, easy. They steam in curtains. Marcus grabs them, throws them aside. He cleans out whatever he can, leaves the innards in a heap beside the corpse.

Those will be eaten quickly by whatever animal happens along.

The rest is uniform. Ben watches, interested with a medical-like curiosity. What is severed gets put in the trash bag Ben is holding out expectantly. Marcus is sogged thoroughly with blood by the end of things. The air thick with a metallic sharpness.

He stands and turns to look at Ben. “Hey,” he says. “Hey.”

“What are you getting at?”

Marcus cracks a grin and slowly raises his index finger to his mouth. He cat-licks once, twice, then takes a good long swipe.

“Oh, man... That’s fucked.” But Ben is smiling. He toes forward and waits for Marcus to finish his bizarre display. Careful not to brush up against him, he leans down and kisses Marcus. Slides his tongue into his mouth to chase the copper taste. “Get you cleaned up,” he murmurs. “You’re a fuckin’ mess.”

“Shut up, you like it. You watched.”

From there, Ben retrieves a towel from the trunk, a gallon jug of water. He showers it over Marcus who giggles the entire time. What blood doesn’t come off with water, Marcus dabs away with the towel. His shirt and jeans are stained entirely, but those can be done away with.

The trash bag strains under its own weight as Ben hoists it up. Warm and heavy. It gets tossed into the trunk and the trunk gets slammed shut.

The garbage bin they choose is random. A big yellow one leaned against the back brick wall of some pizza joint they’ve never been to. Late enough in the night that it’s closed. Quiet street corner.

Ben throws the bag in with an audible huff. It lands with a wet sound.

Under the orange light of the nearby street lamp, Ben’s eyes are darker than usual.

Marcus is still in his blood-damp clothes. He says, “C’mere…”

Ben doesn’t require another word. He grabs Marcus by the hips, lifts him, and marches him backward until he’s pressed to the brick. Marcus kisses him fiercely, shudders a moan when Ben curls a fist into his hair. He tries to grind against Ben, but he’s sandwiched so tightly, there’s very little give. He whines.

“Risky out here,” Marcus whispers.

Ben bites down his throat, pokes his tongue out to lap up a stray spatter of blood on his shoulder. “I don’t think this is the riskiest thing we’ve done tonight.”

“Murder and public indecency charges? I’ll cream my fuckin’ jeans.”

“Never told me about that part... Excited to get caught?”

Marcus hums as he considers, shivers when Ben bites him again. “A thrill like all else. Not aimin’ for it, though.”

“Me neither. Get in the car.”

“Get offa me and I will.”

They swing into the car. As soon as Ben’s shifted into drive, Marcus slides up beside him and pulls down his fly. Ben palms the back of his head, strokes his hair lovingly.

“Don’t bite,” Ben says.

Marcus says, “Well don’t give me any ideas.”

“Lord knows you don’t need anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> how long will this persist? dunno


End file.
